The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  “I’m told you and the Winter heir are friends.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “Have you met Holly yet? Did you train her?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss my previous assignments.”

  Right, right. The Sidhe held both of us on a tight leash. He was probably vow-bound not to spread intel gained from the Summer Court with Winter, and vice versa.

  Though come to think of it, did that mean the Winter Court employed him, too? I hadn’t thought Summer invited people onto their territory who held divided loyalties. Half-bloods weren’t born as part of a Court and bound to serve from birth as the Sidhe were, so it was possible he hadn’t told them, but deceiving the Sidhe was riskier than prodding a sleeping ogre with a stick.

  Our route took us past villages and large estates, yet we never encountered a soul. My skin prickled with unease, and it was almost a relief when a group of chittering piskies flew overhead, tugging at my hair. I swatted them away and carried on walking down the path flanked by leafy plants which led to the ambassadors’ palace.

  “I know the circumstances are less than ideal,” I said to Darrow. “But you could stand to be a little friendlier.”

  “The Summer Court is in turmoil the likes of which hasn’t been seen in generations.” His tone was even, his words precise. “It will be your role to see the Court into a new age and either steer it on the right path or watch it crumble.”

  “Oh, no.” I raised my hands. “I’m not obligated to do anything but stop the Sidhe from letting their warriors wreak havoc on earth.” Again. “Besides, they don’t want me to help them. They were five seconds from executing me earlier.”

  “The Sidhe’s behaviour is the result of fear. Not only have they faced death, they’ve also lost their leader, who they thought to be eternal.”

  “You don’t seem scared.” Then again, he was half-blood. He’d live a human lifespan, same as me. While the Sidhe’s glamour hid their real ages, he likely wasn’t much older than I was, either.

  “Your point?” The elaborately carved gate that marked the entrance to the ambassadors’ palace opened at his touch. Anyone who didn’t know the Erlking’s circumstances might assume the impressive palace was the monarch’s home, but the opulent building was nothing more than a meeting point for Sidhe ambassadors.

  I walked behind him to the oak doors. “Just making an observation.”

  He’d spoken in a calm, dispassionate tone, not at all like someone who faced the potential destruction of their home. He can’t be that attached to Summer, then. Most half-bloods idolised the Courts to an unhealthy degree, even those who grew up in the mortal realm. They placed the Sidhe—and the Erlking above all—on a pedestal.

  The oak doors creaked inward, inviting us into the cavernous hall. Inside, nature warred with extravagance, as though the Sidhe who’d built it hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted it to look like a greenhouse or a palace. Golden flowers grew up the walls and all over the ceiling, gleaming like jewels, while birds and piskies flew around unchecked. Tall glass windows invited sunlight into the hall, and I shielded my eyes from the glare. “Why did the Sidhe select you to oversee my training if you’re not from the Court?”

  “Who told you I wasn’t?” A glint appeared in his eyes, and magic whispered over my skin, setting my heart racing. Maybe picking a fight with the guy the Sidhe had chosen to oversee my training wasn’t a spectacular idea, but neither was binding myself to him without knowing who the hell he was.

  “If you were from the Court, you’d be with the Sidhe, running around panicking about the Erlking’s death.” I couldn’t seem to stop digging myself into a hole. When I was nervous or stressed, my mouth ran away with me without consulting my brain first.

  “You’re certainly judgemental, even by human standards.”

  “I made the judgement when two of them tried to skewer me for a murder I can’t possibly have committed.”

  “Anything is possible here.” His tone carried a hint of warning, and my reply died in my throat. Did he have an idea who the killer might be? In my inexpert judgement, I’d pin the blame on someone from Winter or the jailed Seelie Queen. Or most likely, someone acting on her behalf. Someone with uncanny fighting abilities and access to iron.

  Darrow has extraordinary magic… and he handled the iron without any obvious pain.

  A chill raced down my spine. I had no power to make accusations, but what better way to hide from suspicion than to volunteer to train the Gatekeeper? If I were the killer, I might have made a similar choice. On the other hand, if I started channelling the Sidhe’s paranoia, it’d make the whole experience even more unpleasant for both of us.

  Darrow led me through a side door into a room decorated with tapestries depicting scenes of bloodshed and battle, revelry and laughter. A set of concentric circles marked the room’s centre, formed from glowing runes in the language of the ancient fae. Darrow halted at the circle’s edge. “We will do the binding here.”

  Apprehension dug its heels in. Despite my wayward thoughts, I didn’t really think he was the Erlking’s murderer, but his unfriendly behaviour did nothing to quell my apprehension about the binding. “You’re saying the bond will only last until I pass the Gatekeeper’s Trials, right?”

  “Correct,” he said. “It gives me no pleasure to be tethered to you for longer than that.”

  “You’re such a heart-breaker.” I clutched a hand to my chest over my genuinely thumping heart. I did not want to entwine myself in yet another bloody faerie vow. Everyone knew not to make a promise to a faerie if they could avoid it, and the eternal promise my ancestor had made cemented that rule in my mind. Mum must have done something like this, too, surely. It’s not permanent.

  “Step into the circle and extend your right hand.” He did so himself, pushing up his sleeve to expose his tanned forearm. Magic hummed to the surface, and while he must possess two currents of magic running below the surface, I only felt the buzz of Summer magic against my palm as I held out my own wrist until our hands were almost touching.

  Below our feet, the circles glowed. Thorny vines shot up from the centre, entwining around our hands, and it took all my willpower not to wrench my arm away.

  “Will you take on the Gatekeeper’s Trials?” Darrow’s aquamarine eyes bored into mine.

  “I will take on the Gatekeeper’s Trials.” The vines wrapped around both of our arms, tightly enough that they should have drawn blood—yet when they let me go, the skin was unbroken. Only a faint mark in the shape of the faeries’ rune for ‘Gatekeeper’ on my wrist indicated the vow existed at all.

  “It is done,” said Darrow.

  “That was intimate.” I rolled my eyes at the icy expression on his face. “Relax. I’ve no intention of failing, and to be honest, I didn’t want a permanent bond to a guy who looks at me like I just trod mud on his best carpet.”

  Instead of answering, he pointed to one of the tapestries. The edges peeled back, revealing the forest path leading up to the Summer gate.

  “Go home,” he said. “You will have the rest of the day to get used to the bond before you will be called back to begin your training.”

  “Wow, that’s generous of you.”

  “It isn’t a favour.”

  As though on cue, the mark on my wrist stung. Ow. Maybe it wasn’t harmless after all.

  “It’s been great to meet you, Darrow,” I said brightly. “I’m looking forward to our next sparring contest.”

  I strode through the tapestry and down the forest path towards home. My wrist throbbed again, the mark growing darker around the edges. Ow. I wondered if it was hurting Darrow the same way. Why couldn’t he just take my word for it rather than forcing me to swear a vow? The Court already had me on as tight a leash as possible.

  As I reached the gate, a winged shape flew over my shoulder. I raised a hand to swat at it, and a piece of paper appeared in my hand. The small winged creature gave a short bow before vanishing into thin air.
Someone had sent their sprite to deliver me a message.

  I turned the paper over and damn near dropped it. I knew that signature. It belonged to the Erlking.

  I turned to the main text, and one line leapt out like a brand.

  Do not show your mentor this note.

  4

  I faltered, one step from the gate, and scanned the path. The tapestry had gone, as had Darrow himself. He hadn’t seen the note. Good job, considering it implied he was untrustworthy.

  And I’d just bound myself to him. Fan-bloody-tastic.

  Opening the gates, I stepped through into my own garden. Nobody waited for me, while I couldn’t tell from the sky how much time had passed in this realm. Knowing my luck, I wouldn’t get a full twenty-four hours before Darrow called me back.

  I held the Erlking’s note gingerly in my hand. He must have sent it to me before he died. Me. Why the hell had he chosen me above all the other Sidhe?

  The back door opened, and Ilsa emerged. “Hazel?”

  “What’re you doing here?” I hurried over to my twin sister and hugged her. “The Sidhe didn’t drag you in for questioning, did they?”

  “No, but I came home as soon as Mum let me know she was safe.” Ilsa released me, her brown eyes wide with concern. “Morgan’s not here at the moment, but he knows.”

  We entered the house through the kitchen and found Mum standing there in the dark. She embraced both of us, not speaking. Then she walked out of the room, and I heard the sound of her study door closing.

  “She’s taking it well, then,” I murmured to Ilsa as we made our way to the living room.

  She grunted an agreement, taking a seat on the sofa. The living room looked the same as always—impeccably tidy, with crooked old furniture that Mum was attached to for some bizarre reason, and unflattering baby photos of us on every visible surface.

  I sat on the other end of the sofa, moving the cushions around to form a comfy seat. My whole body ached after my sparring contest with Darrow, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to hit something, scream, or take a four-hour nap. As per usual, the house picked up on my mood, and a plate of cookies appeared on the coffee table. I picked one up, biting into it. Cookies first, questions later.

  Ilsa had other ideas. “Have the Sidhe arrested anyone else?”

  “They practically bit my head off for suggesting it was the Seelie Queen,” I said through a mouthful of chocolate chips. “Or someone acting on her behalf. She might have hired a human to do it.”

  Or a half-faerie with loyalties to both Courts.

  “I guess.” Ilsa fiddled with the hand-knitted throw on her side of the sofa. “Or someone from Winter might have. Have you seen the crime scene?”

  I choked on my cookie. “The Sidhe would hire a troll before they let me play detective. They haven’t even told me the details of how he died.”

  They’d never in a million years believe the Erlking had sent me a personalised note, that was for sure.

  Ilsa looked disappointed. “Then I assume they’re following all the leads they have. Have they asked Holly?”

  “You tell me. I haven’t been here.” I ate the rest of the cookie and picked up another. “My mentor might have gone to hassle her now, for all I know.”

  Assuming he wasn’t guilty himself. I glanced down at the note folded in my free hand, dread rising in my chest.

  “What’s that?” asked Ilsa. Then she spotted the elaborate seal and her jaw dropped. “No way. The Erlking gave you that? When?”

  “He sent a sprite to deliver it to me right as I was leaving. I haven’t read it yet.” I didn’t want to. I hadn’t asked to have the Erlking’s murder added to my teetering pile of responsibilities. But Ilsa’s curiosity was not to be assuaged. She leaned in as I unfolded the paper, and read:

  One lives without breath

  One breathes without life

  The third line was a meaningless string of symbols, which I couldn’t read.

  Then: do not show your mentor this note.

  Ilsa’s brow furrowed. “Is he trying to tell you who the murderer is?”

  “Who the hell knows?” I let the note slide to the carpeted floor, a sudden current of anger rushing through my blood. “He couldn’t have left me simpler directions if he was going to leave me to deal with the chaos he left behind?”

  “Are you sure he meant for you to have the note?”

  “Nobody else in Faerie has a mentor.” At least, I didn’t think so. And I did have the dubious honour of being one of the few humans who’d set my eyes on his face—and his talisman.

  I scooped up the note, a vice clamping around my chest. “All I know is that the staff and the crown are both missing.”

  Horror flashed across Ilsa’s face. “You mean even if they find the heir, they can’t crown another monarch?”

  “I assume not.” My hands twisted together, a nervous habit I’d never quite managed to shake. “I also assume he didn’t know the killer was going to swipe the crown and the staff when he wrote this note. Since he wasn’t dead yet. It’d help if he named an heir, too.”

  Unless he’d sent messages to more than one person. For all our sakes, I bloody hoped so.

  “He knew someone was plotting to murder him,” Ilsa said.

  “That, or he spent his last few seconds of life writing me this note.” I shook my head. “The note implies there was more than one killer, which seems plausible. No way was this a one-person job.”

  Faerie riddles were not my strong point, and if I guessed wrong, the consequences of making a false accusation would rebound on my family. Besides, the Sidhe wouldn’t take my word for it alone even if I figured out the culprit, not without more proof.

  I held out the paper to Ilsa and she leaned over it. “Breathes without life,” she muttered. “And lives without breath. As for that language… I bet we have a translation in our library.”

  “I’ll leave that part to you.” Reading ancient faerie texts wasn’t a strength of mine, but Ilsa had a natural inclination for academics. As a bonus, she wasn’t bound as tightly to the Court as I was, so the Sidhe were less likely to spy on her. “I hope sharing the note with you doesn’t come back to bite me.”

  “Better than the Erlking’s talisman,” she said.

  An image filled my mind, unbidden. The Erlking sat in a throne formed of intertwining roots, surrounded by the rotting husks of dead trees, in the one part of Summer’s territory where nothing grew. Tendrils of magic curled around the base of his staff, seeking life to feed on, eating away at it until there was nothing left.

  Now someone was running around with that power, unchecked. Did I know why the Sidhe were so freaked out? Hell, yes. Would I tell my mentor that? Until I knew he wasn’t guilty… no. Sorry to disappoint you, Darrow, but you have to earn my trust.

  And if he was the killer? Who was I even supposed to report him to when the Erlking was dead?

  Ilsa pushed to her feet. “I’ll have a look in the library.”

  A sudden twinge of pain spiked up my wrist. Ow. That bloody mark was at it again. “I’ll speak to Mum.”

  “I’m here.” Mum walked into the living room. “Hazel, I should have asked how your first day in Faerie went.”

  “Fine, except for the murder accusations.” My wrist stung again. “I could have done without this binding nonsense, too. Anyway, you might want to look at the Erlking’s note.”

  Mum was at my side in an instant. “The Erlking sent you a message?”

  “Yeah.” I passed her the scrap of paper. “I hope one of you can make sense of it, because I’m clueless.”

  While Mum read the note, Ilsa returned with a stack of books and dumped them on the coffee table. “I can start by translating that text. Then I’ll look through the archives. The person who killed the Erlking might have wanted to take his place, so it might even have been one of the potential heirs who did it.”

  I scratched the mark on my wrist, which didn’t help the stinging sensation. “Who’s the heir
? I didn’t think it ran in families for faeries. I mean, they’re all related to one another anyway. And they’re immortal.”

  Correction: they had been immortal. Until two years ago, when their immortality source had gone up in smoke. Now they were long-lived, but no longer immune to death. Still, the title would surely go to the next-in-line or someone the Erlking had personally selected. He must have left some clue behind for those left to pick up the pieces.

  Ilsa picked out a textbook which looked heavy enough to use as a battering ram. “In Winter, they elect the most powerful Sidhe as their monarch rather than following one bloodline. After their leader’s time expires, they arrange a contest and everyone who wants to claim the throne is tested by the Winter Court’s talisman. The one who claims it first wins the throne, and the others…”

  I drew my finger across my throat, and my wrist gave another twinge. Ow. “If Summer tried that, they might lose half their Court. Bet the Unseelie will have to reconsider their methods now death is final, not temporary.”

  “It’s not Summer’s style, anyway,” said Ilsa. “They don’t tend to decide things via blood contests. But if they’re hunting down the Erlking’s relatives, it’ll take them an eternity to find the heir.”

  “At this rate, it won’t be resolved during our lifetimes, then,” I said. “Didn’t it once take them twenty years to negotiate a peace contract?”

  “Yes,” said Mum. “But it takes them rather less time to declare war than to negotiate peace. And in times like this…”

  My chest knotted. No Lynn in living memory had ever witnessed the death of a monarch, but the Gatekeepers weren’t supposed to get involved in disputes over thrones. Besides, I knew how to pick my battles. As far as I was concerned, my job was to make sure my family—and humanity as a whole—didn’t pay the price for the Erlking’s death.

  “There must be a plan.” I looked at Mum. “Please tell me the Erlking at least left a will or some kind of document naming his heir. He must have known he wouldn’t stay on the throne forever.”